


Heel, Achilles (Act II)

by Lord of Reth (Morathor)



Series: Regency [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, And Will Be Updated By Chapter, Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Clothing Porn, Collars, Corruption, Dom/sub, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Sex Addiction, Sex Work, Strap-Ons, The Following Tags Are Included For Disclosure But Are Not Thematic Elements, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Victorian Aesthetics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morathor/pseuds/Lord%20of%20Reth
Summary: As one woman struggles to escape her past, another struggles to find her future.Mistakes that Pyrrha thought she had put behind her cascade into new disasters, dragging her into a downward spiral that threatens her sanity.A gift from a suitor forces Weiss to confront her feelings about her family, the cage she has been living in, and the weakness that keeps her from breaking free.And in the shadows of Vale and the private rooms of the noble houses, dark plans begin to accelerate.
Relationships: Creatures of Grimm/Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc/Weiss Schnee, Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long
Series: Regency [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122554
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Discipline

Ashcroft Manor towered four stories above the overfields, with two sweeping wings enclosing a broad lawn. A paved path, just wide enough for a large carriage, wound through the grass, circling around a tree-like structure of white crystal at the center of the lawn. Silver orbs hung like fruit from its "branches."

Despite its vast size, the building seemed practically abandoned; the lights of the east wing were mostly dimmed, with the top two floors left entirely dark, and the west wing was completely sealed off.

In a large room with soft lighting and elegant furnishings of gray-stained wood and pristine white silks, a slim woman with a ponytail of long white hair sat in front of a vanity. Her white gown consisted simply of a heavily embroidered bodice and a long, loose skirt--no sleeves, no straps, no layers or petticoats. No jewelry, unless one counted the strap of brown leather looped loosely around her wrist. She was carefully, meticulously applying a thick black liquid to her eyelashes, turning her head from side to side to examine the results.

Her jaw clenched as she noticed a smear of black on her lower lid.  _Shit. Shit!_ Her eyes were shining in the dim light, but she thought she had done a better job holding back the tears. She took a small, dark sponge and dabbed delicately at the makeup, before noticing that it was beginning to run beneath her other eye. Biting back a shriek of frustration, she tossed the sponge back to the vanity and took up a damp cloth, scrubbing her face furiously. Then she wiped her skin dry with another cloth, and started her routine over from the foundation.

Weiss could not begin to imagine what had possessed her to listen to the recording Lord Arc had given her. Not when she had things to do. One song, performed by a  _catastrophe_ of a performer, had nearly brought her to tears; of  _course_ the full opera, performed by master musicians of the fallen world, would leave her shaken.

Honestly, she hadn't meant to listen to the whole thing. Just the first act or two. But once she had started the playback, she was...  _enthralled_ . And before she knew it, it was four hours later, and she was a sniveling wreck. She had spent another hour just trying to compose herself, but she was running out of time. Yang would be here any minute for--

There was a knock on the door.  **"Lady Schnee? Can I come in?"**

**"You may,"** she said, her voice steady and confident. Already she was schooling her features into the cold, commanding mask of a proper noble. A proper Patron. Weiss functioned well under pressure; she'd certainly had enough practice.

She heard the door open, but did not turn to look. She could hear Yang shuffle in.  **"Now that I'm properly cleaned up..."** The Huntress cleared her throat, and spoke in the flat tone of a rote recitation.  **"I am pleased to present the Schnee Family with five point seven kilos of aluminum ore from northern Solitas."**

Weiss still wasn't ready, but she gave Yang no indication of her mounting panic. She could improvise, use this to her advantage.  **"Set it by the door. I'll be with you in a minute."**

She heard a faint clunk as Yang put the case on the floor. She continued applying her lipstick. As she was moving on to her eyeliner, she heard a soft rustling of cloth, and the corner of her lip twitched into a smirk. Yang was  _ squirming.  _ But, Weiss had trained her well; she would wait until she was given permission to do otherwise. When she had completed carefully styling her lashes into dark, wing-like fringes, she took her time packing up her makeup, then finally stood up and turned to face Yang.

One benefit of having her Huntresses living with her here on Vale, was that Weiss could dress them in things she would never have allowed them to wear in public. Not even on the carriage ride from their shared flat to the White Chateau. Yang's gown of golden satin hung off one shoulder, leaving the other bare. On the same side, a high slit went nearly up to her waist, exposing her muscular leg and the luscious curve of her hip. A thin cord cinched the garment at her waist. The cut of the gown evoked a single sheet of billowing cloth draped across Yang's body at a careful angle to preserve some shred of her modesty.

Weiss approached her slowly, bare feet padding across the cool tiled floor. Yang stood up straight, her head high, but her face was already flushed.

**"Properly cleaned up, are you?"** Weiss did not make eye contract with her Huntress, looking into the distance past Yang as she approached.

**"Yes, of course."**

As she passed by, Weiss let her hand drift out from her side, her fingertips just barely brushing the bare skin of Yang's hip.

She had expected a reaction. She had  _ not  _ expected Yang's legs to buckle, for her to fall to her hands and knees with a gasp. Perhaps the Huntress was overplaying her reaction, letting herself collapse when she could have stayed on her feet, but it was still... concerning. Yang had returned from her expedition with her clothes more or less intact; it was unlikely she had been ravaged on this mission. But, and it disgusted Weiss to admit this even to herself, Cinder had made a fair point before about Yang's close combat style. The amount of Grimm toxin that seeped into her skin, even in victory, was clearly taking its toll.

Although she was already pondering what to do about that, Weiss did not stop what she was doing. Did not give any indication that Yang's collapse was anything other than  _ exactly  _ what she intended. She continued to circle her Huntress at a leisurely pace.  **"Seems to me you need to be** _**cleansed** _ **, Xiao Long."**

Yang was already panting, her voice trembling.  **"Yes, my Lady."**

**"Can you stand?"** Weiss reached down to cup Yang's chin in hand, and whatever reply the Huntress had been preparing to make dissolved into a pleading cry.  **"Stand for me."** She began to apply pressure upward, and Yang did her best to keep pace and clamber up onto her feet. When she was confident Yang wasn't going to collapse  _ right  _ away, Weiss ran her hand down to the Huntress' collarbone. Then she flipped her hand over, knuckles to Yang's flesh, and hooked two fingers under the loose collar of brown leather. She smirked to feel Yang shivering at the touch, and began to lead the stumbling Huntress towards the bed.

When they had reached the broad, low bed, Weiss slipped her fingers out of Yang's collar and circled around her, running her hand down the Huntress' muscular arm. Yang, to her credit, stayed on her feet; even as her face flushed and her body trembled, even as Weiss could hear her desire  _ dripping  _ onto the tiles, she did not fall. As her hand reached Yang's wrist, Weiss shifted inward to once again stroke her exposed thigh. At the same time, she laid her other hand on the small of Yang's back, under her luxurious golden locks.

Weiss slid her hand up along Yang's spine, with just enough pressure to be felt through the satin, and Yang arched her back, rising up on the balls of her feet with a gasp. Down below, her fingertips crawled daintily under the satin and along the smooth skin of Yang's toned thigh. She slid her ring and middle fingers between Yang's legs, then eased her hand upward, cupping Yang's groin. The Huntress hissed through clenched teeth as the heel of Weiss' palm pressed up against the top of her slit, dangerously close to her clitoris. Yang quivered for a moment, before her legs buckled once more.

This time, though, she did not fall to her knees; despite being a fair size smaller than Yang, Weiss had enough strength to support her. Instead the sudden downward lurch pressed Yang's groin down onto Weiss' waiting hand, her pussy swallowing up the two fingers nearly to the knuckle.  **"Gg... gk... kkh.... gg..."** Even standing behind her, Weiss could see foaming spittle starting to seep through Yang's teeth and roll down her chin.

**"Such a mess,"** Weiss chided. She ran her hand up the back of Yang's neck, then gently, delicately, pulled aside the curtain of long blonde hair, taking care to separate a few loose strands from Yang's sweaty skin without breaking them. She leaned forward, pursing her lips to blow a focused puff of air against the back of Yang's neck.

Yang convulsed, doubling over as her spine whipped forward. As her center of gravity shifted, she drove Weiss' fingers deeper into her pussy before falling off them, collapsing face first on the bed. Weiss looked down at Yang thoughtfully, at her powerful shoulders heaving with every breath, at her skin glistening with sweat. She allowed herself to enjoy the sight. There was no point denying that she played favorites with Ruby, but Xiao Long was not without her charms.

But Weiss couldn't spend long admiring the view.  _ Back to work.  _

**"You're drooling on my sheets, Xiao Long."**

Yang moaned a little, and began to slur out an apology, but it was cut off by a squeal and the sharp smack of Weiss' hand against her ass. After making contact, Weiss did not pull back her arm, instead beginning to gently stroke the curve of Yang's rear through the satin. She knelt down behind her Huntress, knees on either side of Yang's and began to caress and knead her buttocks with both hands. Yang quivered, uttering only pitiful, needy whimpers.  **"Mm... mm... hnn..."**

Weiss reached down to take the hem of Yang's dress, and slowly lifted it up over her hips--peeling the drenched satin away from her skin. Yang was a mess, her bottom beaded with sweat and her thighs soaked with desire. She quivered and squirmed as her nether regions were exposed to the cool air. Lazily, Weiss lifted her hand between Yang's legs and ran one slow finger along her slit, eliciting a shudder. Patiently, delicately, Weiss began to dig into her folds, settling her finger on Yang's clit. She circled it slowly, and as Yang began to writhe with anticipation, Weiss put a firm hand on her rear to steady her.

**"Aaah... ahaa... aaannn... nnn... aaaAAA! Ahh, ahaa..."** Yang sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

**"Poor thing,"** Weiss said.  **"Am I teasing too much?"**

**"Hnnn... mmm... mmhmm... mmm... mmn..."**

**"Do you want more?"**

Yang replied mostly in unintelligible moans, though Weiss thought she might have been trying to form some kind of word. If she was, she gave up after a bit and simply nodded.

But Weiss didn't want to leave it at that.  **"I can't tell if you're nodding or simply quivering. I need an answer."** She smiled.  **"Do you think you can say please? Try please for me."**

**"Hnng..."** The frustration was clear in Yang's voice.  **"Pff... puh... pwuh..."** Her attempts were lost in a miserable groan of need.

Weiss eased off her teasing, just a bit--which prompted a keening whine.  **"If you want more, you know what I want to hear."**

**"Ff... pff..."** Weiss took a deep breath, let it out in a few more ragged pants, before finally managing a throaty,  **"Pleease..."**

Without reply or hesitation, Weiss plunged three fingers into Yang's eager passage, while continuing to tease her clit with her forefinger. With that alone, convulsions surged through Yang's body, a scream of overwhelmed delight tearing itself from her throat. A torrent of liquid spilled from her already soaked pussy. Weiss resisted the impulse to pull back her hand as the fluid ran down her arm. She hated how it pooled in the crook of her elbow, but she could hardly abandon her Huntress to go wash up.

Instead she continued to pump her fingers in and out of Yang, swirling and spreading them inside, exploring as much of Yang's passage as she could reach. Yang had scarcely come down from her first climax before rising into her second. Weiss dragged out the third a little bit longer, but she wasn't going to keep Yang waiting  _ too  _ long. Not after the herculean effort the Huntress had made to beg for it.

With Yang's third orgasm, Weiss pulled her hand away and got to her feet. She walked over to a nearby end table, pretending to survey the tools and toys she had laid out. Really, it was just an excuse to take a few moments to wipe her arm off with a rag. It wasn't clean, but it would do for now.

**"Did you enjoy that?"** she called, not looking up from the table.

**"Mmhm."**

**"Don't 'mmhm' me."**

**"...yes my Lady."**

Weiss' fingers glided over the tools of her trade.  **"Do you want more?"**

**"** _**Yes,** _ **my Lady."** Yang's voice was rapturous with desire, and Weiss couldn't escape a shiver of excitement to hear it.

**"And what will you do for more?"**

There was a pause, and the soft, wet noise of Yang licking her lips.  **"Anything,"** she breathed.

Weiss turned and walked back to the bed, reaching up and beginning to slide her dress down. Only the slight elasticity of the neckline and the subtle curve of her bosom held it up to begin with; once she had worked it down past her breasts, the gown slithered down her legs and pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of the folds of cloth and climbed onto the bed, settling into a kneeling position, her knee inches from Yang's cheek. Slowly she spread her legs apart, parting her thighs and presenting her glistening slit to the Huntress. She may not have been a sopping mess like Yang, but Weiss was starting to get excited.

Yang crawled over to Weiss and carefully settled her hands on the bedspread on either side of her legs. She parted her lips and let out a huff of warm air; Weiss shivered as Yang's breath wound through the tidily trimmed patch of her downy white pubic hair. Her own breath grew a little unsteady as Yang's tongue, burning hot and dripping with saliva, touched to the bottom of her slit. Weiss strained not to gasp as the Huntress worked her way up. Yang gave her a few more slow, gentle licks, slathering Weiss with her drool as her hot, panting breath washed over Weiss' pale skin. Then she began to apply more pressure, parting the folds of flesh with her tongue. As Yang worked her way deeper in with each lick, carefully lubricating Weiss with a layer of slimy drool, Weiss' own fluids rushed to meet her tongue.

As Yang's lips met her pussy, her tongue exploring deeper and deeper into her passage, Weiss clenched her jaw. She was breathing heavily through her nose, and while the flaring of her nostrils might have been a bit unseemly, she was at least holding back any noises more lewd than that. Then Yang began to work her way upward and began to tease her way through Weiss' folds; as Yang's tongue found her clit, Weiss had to bite her lip to keep her voice at bay. Weiss toyed expertly with the sensitive nub, swirling the tip of her tongue around it, flicking it. As she pinched it gently between her teeth, Weiss gripped her bedspread, turning her pale knuckles white as snow.

She wanted nothing more right now than to fall back on her bed and relax as Yang worked her magic. The woman could manage things with her tongue that Weiss couldn't even duplicate with her fingers. Weiss wished she could lie back, close her eyes, and indulge in the pleasure. She wished she could arch her back and buck her hips, or gasp and moan to her heart's content.

Instead she sat up straight and silent, discipline personified. The muscles of her stomach were starting to burn simply from tensing, and her shoulders were aching from the strain.

Weiss forced herself to disentangle her fingers from the bedding, and reached down to Yang's head. Slowly she worked her fingers through the wavy blonde locks, careful not to tug, not to break or pluck a single strand. Yang's hair was still ever so slightly damp from her bath. Weiss worked her fingertips down to Yang's scalp and massaged it gently, prompting the woman to moan into her pussy.

The rush of hot air almost sent Weiss over the edge.  **"Nn!"** She couldn't quite stifle the sound that came from her throat, nor the ones after that as the tension mounted in her body.  **"Nn... mm... hm... nn... nnh..."** She screwed her eyes shut as every taut muscle in her body quivered together. She felt like an overtuned violin--and, inevitably, she snapped.

**"NNH!"**

Her climax was not dramatic. A short, sharp squeak as she seized up; she twitched for a moment or two, then released, slouching almost imperceptibly as fluid flooded her passage. Yang closed her lips over Weiss' pussy and drank deeply, coaxing more and more liquid out , until finally she had to break away for air. As Yang gasped and panted, Weiss opened her mouth and allowed herself a single, shuddering sigh.

**"Very good, Xiao Long."**

**"Mmm... thank you, my Lady..."**

Weiss scooted away from her, over to the edge of the bed. She winced slightly as she stepped onto the tiles, the cold touch of stone suddenly drawing attention to the coolness of the air. The thin sheen of sweat evaporating from her nude skin chilled her all the more, but she strode calmly to the table as though she was perfectly comfortable.

She took her time examining and considering the assorted tools and props, even though her mind was already made up. Even though her nipples were starting to ache from the chill. She just wanted to give Yang a little time to squirm. When she heard the satin dress rustling against her bedsheets, Weiss knew she had stalled long enough and took up a thick leathery rod, with spiral ridges rising along its length and an attached harness. As she turned and walked to the bed, she was already putting it on--fastening the clasps loosely at first, just enough to keep it from falling down, as she did the more subtle work of sliding one end into her pussy. Then she tightened the straps around her hips to secure it, and carefully lined up a small protrusion with her clitoris.

When she was sure the strap-on was secure, Weiss climbed onto the bed again, and reached down to put a hand on Yang's hip. She rolled Yang over onto her back, and Yang's eyes quickly gravitated towards the foot-long shaft that now stood upright between her Patron's legs.

**"Oh, shit. You really broke out the big guns for me, huh?"**

Weiss sighed heavily, even as she rolled up Yang's dress to uncover her groin once more.  **"Language,"** she chided.

**"SorriiIIIIHIIH!"** Yang squealed as Weiss plunged the leathery shaft into her. The thrust pressed it deeper into Weiss' pussy as well, the little nub pressing roughly into her clit. She struggled to retain her composure and dignity as she continued to pound into Yang--who had given both up in an instant. The Huntress writhed and moaned with wild abandon: rolling her shoulders, clenching and unclenching her fists, undulating her hips to lean into Weiss' advances. She tossed her head from side to side as her eyes rolled back in her head.

A pang of jealousy drove Weiss to rock her hips a little faster, a little harder--hitting Yang harder, but driving the strap-on more forcefully into her own pussy as well. The sensation of the protruding nub hammering against her clit was almost too intense to be called pleasure or pain. Her head spun, she saw stars, and still she did not relent. Her head bucked forward, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. The long white hair swayed back and forth as she continued her rhythmic pounding.

Only as she was approaching release did Weiss slow down, softening her thrusts, buying time to compose herself. When she came, it was with a tensing of her shoulders, a shudder, and a strangled cry.  **"NNNNnnnn... gnnn... nnn..."**

As her vision focused, she gazed down at Yang--already a quivering, mindless mess. Weiss wasn't sure how many times her Huntress had come (unprofessional, entirely unprofessional to lose track) but it certainly seemed like enough.

It was a little worrying, to see her reduced to this state so easily; Weiss felt like she'd hardly done anything. Yang was getting  _ so  _ sensitive, so horny. If her condition kept deteriorating like this, she would be unfit for missions within a year or two. Which, admittedly, was an inevitable fate for Huntresses. They all succumbed to the Grimm one way or another, and recognizing one's limits and retiring was better than never coming back from Remnant. But most were active for at least five years before that. Sometimes ten.

Weiss had been hesitant to involve Yang's father; she didn't think Yang would take it well. But there was no help for it. The best combat tutors in Atlas had failed to break Yang of the bad habits she'd learned from Adam Taurus. Xiao Long wasn't a  _ better  _ trainer than any of them, but he was one of Vale's best. And hopefully he could reach his daughter in a way that someone like Ironwood couldn't.

With a sigh, Weiss clambered off of Yang and stepped off the bed. She walked over to the end table, undoing the clasps of her strap-on and putting it back in its place. Then she hurried back to the bed, lifting up the sheets.  **"Time to get up, Xiao Long."**

**"Mmm... nnnn.... dnnn wanna..."**

**"I just need you off the blankets for a second."**

With another whine, Yang clambered off the bed, all but falling on the floor. She yelped; it seemed the chill of the tiles was a bit sobering. Weiss lifted the covers and climbed in, holding the blankets up for Yang.  **"Alright. You can come back to bed. Unless you'd rather sleep in your own."**

Yang scrambled in under the covers and curled up against Weiss' side; Weiss rolled her eyes and pulled the blankets up over Yang's shoulders. Honestly, she'd been hoping Yang would go back to her room; Weiss wanted to wash up before she settled down for the night. She felt... grimy. But she could endure it till morning, if Yang still needed her.

**"So how do you feel, Xiao Long?"**

**"Mmm... good, my Lady."**

**"Satisfied?"**

**"Oh yes..."**

They lay quietly for a while, and Weiss half-expected to hear Yang start snoring. Instead...

**"Lady Schnee?"**

**"Yes?"**

**"I've been invited to tea this week."**

**"...you got back from Remnant this morning, and you already have a date?"**

**"I don't know if it's a date. I don't know where it's going to go. But, just in case, I wondered if... if I could get permission...?"**

**"Perhaps. Who's the lucky lady?"**

**"It's uh. It's Blake Belladonna."**

Weiss furrowed her brow, then sighed.  **"No, you can't sleep with Belladonna."**

**"...you think I'm going to catch something? From** _**Blake** _ **?"**

**"She's spent almost two years contracted to a mongrel."**

**"...she's been sleeping with him a lot longer than that."**

**"Why are you still arguing when I've made my decision?"**

**"Cause it's not a fair decision. I mean, If she had anything contagious, shouldn't I have caught it back when I was in training to be her Huntress? We fooled around a little, back then, and she was also already with Adam, so...."**

Weiss sat up with a weary sigh; Yang whined as cool air rushed beneath the blankets.  **"They may have been clean back then, but it's been** _**years** _ **, Yang. Wealth and prestige, and even infamy, will have opened up a lot of new possibilities for Taurus. You think he's been satisfied with just his Huntress all this time?"**

**"You think anyone would fuck him?"**

**"Belladonna did."** Weiss felt Yang flinch against her hip, and felt a twinge of guilt. That had been tactless.  **"Apart from any other courtesans or prostitutes he may have hired, now that he has the money, the man is not without his charms. They don't** _**remotely** _ **outweigh his vices, but I can see the appeal in that sort of... intensity."**

_ "I don't have anything to apologize or make up for." _

Weiss felt her cheeks warm, ever so slightly, and tried to shove the memory aside. Now was not the time for it.

**"...I'm still accepting her invitation for tea."** Weiss could almost hear the petulant pout on Yang's face.   
****

**"And I hope you enjoy yourself. I'm glad to see you reconnect with her, Yang, really I am. Just not sexually."**

Yang let out a huff of air.  **"Fine. Now can you please bring the covers back down? I'm freezing."**

Weiss laid back down, tucking Yang in under the blankets once more. As Yang snuggled up to her, Weiss wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began to gently stroke her hair. She hummed a gentle tune to her Huntress. It was a bit melancholy, but it seemed to do the trick.

**"Mmm..."** Yang gave a few pleasant moans and murmurs, which quickly dissolved into a soft snore.

Well, that was it. Yang was satisfied, purified, and off to a restful sleep. Mission complete, job well done.

After a few minutes of humming, her lips parted, as Weiss murmured fragments of lyrics under her breath.  **"...who am I, to complain... life's been spared so much pain..."**


	2. Snowfall

A thick curtain of ash-colored snow fell from dark, heavy clouds. It blanketed the mountainside in fine gray powder--smoothing over the jagged rocks, burying the tracks of monsters. Whenever the howling winds died down, the mountains stood with the solemn serenity of a graveyard.

The stillness was disturbed, not by the shrieking of wind, but by the screeching of scorched metal tearing through the cold air, a fiery blaze like a falling star that crashed into the mountainside. The impact sent a spray of ashy snow into the air, and waves of it cascading down the mountainside--rolling over the silver cylinder at the heart of the impact. A cloud of steam rose, the snow vaporizing on contact with the metal before it could bury the pod. Finally, everything fell still again, a patch of bare black earth stark against the snowy mountainside.

The snow began to shift, as if something were moving under it, until a bone white mask pushed out of a gray snow bank at the edge of the new clearing. Slowly and cautiously, the creature crept towards the pod, its long, feline form slinking low to the ground. There was a hiss of steam as the pod started to unfold, and with a skittish leap the creature burrowed back into the snow. Still, burning red eyes remained fixed on the cylinder.

As the cocktail of sedatives that kept her in stasis during transit faded, Pyrrha slowly opened her eyes. She reached up slowly to detach the tubes from her mask; her arms still felt a little weak, and the heavy coat that all but swallowed up her gorget was much thicker than the military jacket she usually wore on expeditions. Her new jumpsuit was thicker as well, but not by much--relying on multiple thin layers of insulators, rather than bulk. The best compromise between warmth and mobility that the Arc Estate could afford. She stepped out of the pod, muscle memory ensuring smooth motion even when her mind was still clouded.

She heard a throaty huff, and she forced her eyes to focus.

She was used to Grimm scattering from her landing site, scared away by the noise and destruction. Eventually, their curiosity--and the scent of prey--would override their caution, but by that time she would be long gone. But it seemed that the Grimm in this area were a little bolder. Pyrrha found herself, unarmed, unarmored, still groggy from drugs, face to face with a Sabyr.

For a moment, she thought that this was it. Her expedition was going to end before it had begun. She could almost feel it, feel herself pinned beneath the beast, its venom flowing through her veins, that loathsome, delirious heat consuming her mind and body.

But even as her thoughts turned to her end, her body reacted to prevent it. She rolled away from the lunging Sabyr, ducking under its snapping jaws and towards the shelf that had expanded from the side of her pod. She grabbed her spear and pulled it from its place, just as the Grimm's claws raked across the rows of tools and supplies. Even as she scrambled to avoid it, she managed to cut a gash in its flesh.

The Sabyr whirled, the ichor coating its forelimb already congealing in the cold. As it pounced again, its leg buckled slightly, throwing off its angle of attack. Pyrrha dodged around to its side and struck.

In her best form, that would have been the end of it. But now that her head was clearing, it was her body that was struggling to keep up. With her legs still wobbly, she couldn't hold her footing on the icy slope, couldn't drive the spear in deep enough to end the creature. Instead, she and the Grimm both tumbled down the mountainside, and fell sprawling into the snow at its base.

As the Grimm rolled onto its feet with a display of feline grace, Pyrrha scrambled onto hers with far less poise. Still, she was able to get her spear up as the creature hunched down, coiling like a spring before launching itself at her. Pyrrha hurled her spear at the Sabyr, lodging the weapon in its gut, just below its rib cage. Then, steeling her nerves, she dove towards it. She fell onto her stomach as its snarling maw passed over her head, close enough that its lower fangs snagged the hood of her coat. She heard a slight tearing of cloth, and felt the cold air hitting her head like a mallet as the hood was pulled down, but she paid it little mind. Pyrrha grabbed the haft of the spear, angling it to plant the other end against the hard ground. As the Sabyr soared over her head, she could feel its guts spilling out onto her back.

As the beast crashed to the ground behind her, Pyrrha scrambled away from its remains, already peeling off her coat before the ichor could seep through. She wasn't sure how well it could get through any of these clothes, but she didn't want to take chances. She got to her feet, her gaze sweeping across the landscape for any sign of movement, any glint of red eyes.

Nothing.

She became aware of warm blood oozing slowly down her forehead, pooling at the seal of her goggles, and reached up to wipe it away. She must have hit her head somewhere during the tumble. While her hand was by her goggles, she decided to check her time. With the press of a button, the lens displayed 651:24.

Pyrrha turned and began to trudge back up to her landing site. Less than a minute out of the pod, and she was bruised, bloody, and her clothes were filthy and torn. Not the most auspicious start, but given the circumstances she had been plunged into, it could have been much, much worse.

Setting the coat inside the pod, she examined the shelving where the Grimm had struck it. The rack itself seemed relatively intact; it was designed to handle at least a little battering by restless Grimm, not to mention the heat of atmospheric entry and the impact of landing. But some of her gear had been knocked off, scattered in the snow. Grimacing beneath her mask, Pyrrha began to gather and don her armor.

She had a few minutes of panic as she struggled to find a particular piece, but eventually uncovered it in a snowbank--a bulky boot of iron and copper wire. It was not going to be pleasant if she had to fight in these, and she felt a bit naked without her usual greaves, but the boots were a necessary tool. She just counted herself lucky that Jaune had got her a model with ice cleats.

Once she was properly armored, Pyrrha crossed over to the other shelf, taking a circle of glass with a brass frame around it, and fixing it over the left lens of her goggles. Once she had secured it, she spread her feet wide, planting them firmly on the ground, and squeezed the frame of the detachable lens. A thick, jagged green line appeared across the glass, interwoven with a thin white line that jittered and twitched, constantly reshaping itself. After a moment, both lines faded to be nearly translucent; it saved power, and besides, it would be too distracting to have the constantly shifting wavelength display over one eye.

Satisfied that her oscillators were working, Pyrrha turned her attention to supplies. She would have to travel light, as her objective was rather heavy. Fortunately, since she was searching an area rather than seeking a destination, she could make multiple shorter forays and resupply between them. Pyrrha packed up her satchel, then picked up her coat again. She examined the tear in the hood, and was relieved to find it relatively superficial. The outer lining was a bit ragged, the seam at the neck a bit frayed; it might not hold up to much more abuse, but it would still keep the cold out. As for the ichor that had drenched the coat, it was mostly frozen at this point. Pyrrha could see a few spots on the interior where the substance had soaked all the way through, but it was probably too solid to seep through her jumpsuit. As Pyrrha was weighing that risk against the dangers of exposure, the wind picked up and made her decision for her. She hastily put on her coat.

She pushed the various shelves and doors of her pod back into place, sealing it back up into the sleek metal cylinder. Then she started up the mountain, before any other Grimm could work up the courage to examine the landing site. She stopped when she found an outcropping--little more than a jagged clump of rocks, but it was at least a little less exposed than the open mountainside. It gave her a bit of cover from any eyes that might be below her, while giving her a chance to survey her surroundings.

Not that she could make out much. Just the vague silhouettes of other mountain peaks against the red skyline. She kept looking for signs of movement, but with the perpetual snowfall, there was nothing  _still_ to contrast it against. And while the white bone and black fur of the Grimm should have stood out against the gray snow, there was enough fine powder in the air between Pyrrha and the other mountains to mute even such stark colors. The other mountains could have been teeming with Grimm, for all she knew.

Eventually she couldn't look. She wasn't getting any useful information, just stressing herself out. Even if every Grimm she imagined she saw were real--and she was sure at least some of them were--they were too far away to notice her. To threaten her. Until and unless they came closer, she had other concerns.

She began to make her way higher up the mountain, hands tucked under her arms to ward away the cold. She had little sense of how long she had walked, how far she had climbed, before she found a little cave in the mountainside. It was only a few feet deep, more a crack than a crevice, but it was as good a place as any to stop for a minute. Once she had tucked herself in, away from the wind and the snow, did she reach up to check the time.

647:52.

She closed her eyes, taking stock of herself. She was starting to grow sore, feeling the bruises from her tumble down the mountainside during her fight. And, to her frustration, she was starting to grow aroused. It wasn't much, just a faint, feverish heat setting into her skin. But it was going to be a problem, and sooner than she had planned. The walking wasn't getting to her too much, but she hadn't accounted for the snow.

Of course, the Grimm poison was not just in the Grimm--it was in  _everything_ on Remnant. The soil, the water, the clouds, the rain and the snow; it was probably tainting the selenium she was seeking. Even the air was toxic, and while her mask kept it out of her lungs, trace amounts seeped into every inch of exposed skin, every moment she was on the planet. That was a given, and she was used to it. But the snow melting against her skin, wherever it found its way around her hood and goggles and mask, was proving to be a more effective vector for the poison than she had anticipated.

Pyrrha turned her head and peered out into the darkness. She didn't know what she was looking for. Maybe anxiety would distract her from the heat.

Eventually she did see movement at the base of the mountain--black and white shapes, too large and distinct to be her eyes playing tricks on her in the snow. A massive creature, followed by three smaller beasts of a similar form, stomping along on four thick legs, long trunks swaying. Two pairs of white tusks framed their bony masks, and two pairs of red eyes glinted out from beneath them.

It was tempting to imagine that the smaller ones were juveniles, no bigger than the Sabyr she had already dispatched. But guessing at the distance, based on how long she had climbed, she knew that even the "little" ones were larger than the Beringel that had...

That...

Which meant that the one leading was larger still.

Just one of the Megoliaths would have been a challenge. The alpha... well, she wasn't going to call it impossible. But facing down the troop?

_\--a great trunk coiled around her chest, shattering her ribs. Her eyes rolled back and her tongue flopped out of her mouth as she quaked beneath the massive cock that tore her insides apart. She would die, screaming in agony and ecstasy--_

Tearing her eyes away from the outside, as if that would banish the ghastly vision from her mind, she tried to wedge herself a little deeper into the crevice. She dug her journal out of her pack and began to write.

_Pyrrha Nikos, Expedition 5, Day 1_

_Time Until Extraction: 647 hours_

_I've landed, and had to engage with a Sabyr immediately on exiting my pod. I was able to dispatch it with minimal injury, and have moved to a secondary location higher up on the mountain. As soon as I've finished this journal entry, I'll move out. Visibility is low due to the snowfall, and that's more an impediment for me than the Grimm. But I was able to spot a small group of Megoliaths, including a large alpha._

_The Grimm I've seen so far are the sorts that we anticipated based on the terrain and weather--powerful, aggressive, but few in number. Even so, I'll have to move cautiously, and be mindful of where the wind is carrying my scent. Fortunately, smell shouldn't travel as well in the cold, and I won't be sweating very much._

_As far as shelter goes, I'm going to have to improvise. The geological surveys suggest significant systems of caverns and tunnels in this mountain range, and I've already found a good crevice near the landing site. I'll have to see what I can find during my travels. I've packed a sleeping blind, which should help me avoid attention, but not if anything gets too close, so I'll still have to clear out any cave or shelter I find._

_I'm going to start with the peak directly to the north, and make a thorough sweep before returning. From there I'll go clockwise around the nearest mountains. If that doesn't work, I'll start heading farther out, but I don't see any point in straying far from the landing site until I need to._

Pyrrha gazed down at the page, trying to think of something more to write. The entry felt short, but she didn't really have anything else to say.

...maybe she was just looking for a distraction.

With a sigh, she closed her journal and tucked it away in her pack, then risked another glance outside. She peered down at the base of the mountain. No Grimm. She squinted at the slopes of distant mountainsides. Nothing, or at least, nothing so obviously visible as the Megoliaths.

It should have been comforting, to know they had moved on. But it just meant she didn't know where they were.

With a groan, she crawled out of the crevice and resumed climbing.

_Back to work._

* * *

The clouds never parted, and the snow never let up. It was all but impossible to guess the time of day. At some point, Pyrrha thought it got a bit darker. At some other point, a bit lighter. But whether she had walked through the night, or a slightly thicker layer of clouds had rolled through, she couldn't say. She'd certainly been far enough to have gone through the night--up one mountainside, down the opposite slope, and now up the side of the next mountain. She wondered why she didn't feel more tired. She worried it was because she was too cold to feel tired. She reached up to check the time.

638:47. Maybe she really had walked through the night. And in all that time, not so much as a hiccup from her oscillators, no sign of the selenium she was after. It was expecting too much, maybe, to find a deposit on the first day, but it was still frustrating.

Frustrated or not, she couldn't keep going forever. She should force herself to rest, even if she didn't feel tired. She searched for a crevice, but trecked another hour before she found one. She approached it cautiously, peering in. It was deeper than the one she'd found on the other mountain, which made it a better shelter from the storm. But also a better nest for Grimm, and dark enough to hide them. Swallowing, she reached slowly into her pack and dug around until she found a flare. Tearing her eyes from the cave long enough to take one more sweep of her surroundings, making sure there was nothing on the outside that might be alerted, she lit the flare and tossed it in.

The harsh blue light reflected off of ice-covered walls, almost blinding Pyrrha. For a moment, she thought she glimpsed white bone, and scrambled away from the entrance. She held up her shield and extended her spear, ready to fight the Grimm that she had just disturbed.

She waited, muscles tense, heart pounding, adrenaline spiking through her body. Nothing happened. As her breathing started to even out, she crept back up towards the cave to take another look.

She had been right about the bone, but not about what it meant. These weren't the armored growths or ghoulish mask of a Grimm, not even the boney remains of a fallen Grimm after its body had melted away. Inside the cave was the skeleton of an animal--a real animal. It must have died centuries ago. And while Pyrrha didn't feel entirely safe resting in its grave, it was probably her best option right now.

She crept into the crevice, picking up her flare and moving it behind some rocks, so its light wouldn't reach all the way to the cave entrance. She sat down, leaning her back against an ice-slicked wall, staring at the bleached bones. She tried to imagine the creature they came from. It was large, probably quadrupedal. The skull was elongated, the fangs sharp. Maybe some kind of canine? It seemed large, even for the largest wolf, but she was hardly an expert on extinct predators. The only canine she'd ever seen in person had been a noblewoman's lapdog--a creature more ornamental than even a Huntress. Maybe wolves did get this big.

But, even if they did, it didn't look quite right. Something about the clawed toes... perhaps a bear? She tried to picture it: a big brown bear with a full belly, settling in for a long winter's nap. Maybe it had passed quietly before the world fell. She liked to imagine that--a peaceful, restful end.

Stifling a yawn, she reached into her pack and dug out the sleeping blind. She wrapped herself in the cocoon of multi-colored fabrics, the disorganized patches of blues and grays breaking her outline and helping the blind blend in to its surroundings. It was largely unclear if Grimm could see color, but the camouflage couldn't hurt. Pyrrha settled in to corner of the cave and sealed up the blind.

Little by little, as she started to warm up, her numbness gave way to an agonizing sensation of pins and needles. And when that eventually faded, she almost immediately wished for it back. Gods, she was  _sore._ Her muscles ached, her back hurt, her feet hurt. And despite all the pain, the worst thing was the  _heat_ that came rushing in as soon as the cold faded. She was  _burning._

With a whimper, Pyrrha reached a hand down between her legs. She ran two fingers up and down her crotch, shivering at the sensation. She could feel moisture starting to gather in her passage, but she continued to tease herself, milking more and more out until she could feel it seeping through her suit.

For a moment, she hesitated. She had gone out of her way to ask for permission for this, but even so... it could be a mistake. Arousal was the scent that attracted Grimm above all--more than sweat, breath, blood, or even the ichor pools of their fallen kin. And while her suit would keep it contained somewhat contained, and it wouldn't permeate well in the cold, this was still a risk.

She just... had to weigh it against the risk of being distracted by this damned  _heat_ every waking minute. Maybe she would go numb in the cold again, but honestly she should probably avoid that level of exposure. Any plan that relied on losing all sensation was probably a bad one.

Ultimately, she didn't know why she bothered weighing her choices--she didn't  _have_ one. Her burning body was already screaming in protest over her momentary hesitation. With a groan, Pyrrha continued to stroke her pussy through the suit, working the cloth deeper and deeper into her folds. She tried to keep her movement to a minimum, afraid to unseal her sleeping blind, but she couldn't hold back a shudder of pleasure, nor a spasm of pain as that shudder made the ache in her shoulder flare up. She curled in on herself, her whimpers muffled by her mask.

**"Hmmmm... hnnn... hnnnn... nnn..."**

The heat built quickly, and soon she tensed with her climax, one leg uncontrollably kicking out, the heavy boot stretching at the limits of her sleeping blind. She felt a sudden surge of panic--she was pretty sure she couldn't tear the blind, not that easily anyway, but just in case, maybe she ought to take off her boots before she went any further.

Instead she continued working her fingers. She felt possessed, like her hand was acting on its own. Trembling, she reached her other hand up to her chest, clumsily trying to grope at herself through her coat and armor. Even that elicited some reaction, a shockwave of pleasure spreading from her nipple as the breastplate was pressed down against it, but it wasn't nearly enough. Unzipping her coat, her shaking fingers found the edge of her breastplate and slipped underneath. The brass dug into her knuckles as she clawed and squeezed at her own bosom.

She couldn't help but cry out as another climax ripped through her. She screwed her eyes shut as her head snapped back, and she clamped her thighs together around her hand. She shook and quivered for what seemed like hours, before falling limp inside her blind.

Breathing ragged, eyes cloudy, Pyrrha slipped into a restless sleep.


End file.
